Blótskål’s ‘Afloat the Nocturnal Current’ (EP, 2026) is a cold, folkloric‑tinged Dutch Black Metal release rooted in the northern Lowlands scene and crafted by two seasoned musicians: Nortfalke (all instruments) and The Specter (vocals).
‘Afloat the Nocturnal Current’ is built on a cold, urgent Black Metal foundation with folk‑inflected melodic phrasing, echoing early Satyricon (Dark Medieval Times, The Shadowthrone) and shades of Arckanum and early Kampfar.
The EP’s character is defined by icy, rattling drum urgency, the feral piercing shrieks from The Specter, atmospheric, humming keyboards that carry the folk aura, hook‑driven riffs reminiscent of Darkthrone and early Norwegian minimalism.
The band relies on strong, memorable riffs and tonal shifts to maintain tension without over‑complication.
From its first seconds, ‘My Soul Is Fading’ establishes the EP’s drifting, melancholic descent, a slow pull into Nortfalke’s nocturnal world. The tremolo motif repeats like a fading pulse, not static but eroding, and the humming keyboard layer beneath it gives the impression of something ancient stirring under the surface. The Specter’s voice enters as a serrated wind cutting through the haze, never overpowering the riff but threading itself through the melody like a frayed tether. The track feels like a threshold, the moment where consciousness loosens and the listener begins to drift along the current that defines the EP.
The title track, ‘Afloat the Nocturnal Current’, tightens the grip. The urgency rises immediately: rattling drums push forward with a restless momentum, and the folk‑inflected melodic phrasing gives the song its ritualistic character. There is a sense of being carried, not walking, the riffs flow rather than strike, and the keyboards act as a faint lantern guiding the movement. The Specter’s vocals are sharper here, more confrontational, slicing across the riff cycles with a cadence that feels like an invocation. This track is the EP’s thesis, the moment where the nocturnal current becomes a force rather than a metaphor.
‘Towering Nebula Burst’ shifts the EP into its most cosmic register. The tremolo spirals feel luminous, expanding outward like a nebula blooming in slow motion. The keyboards hum with a distinctly early‑Nordic atmosphere, echoing the cosmic folk sensibilities of Dark Medieval Times without imitation. The drums pulse rather than attack, giving the track a ritualistic heartbeat. Everything here feels vast, a moment of elevation, of drifting far above the earthly fog that will soon return. It is the EP’s atmospheric apex, a breath of cold starlight before the descent resumes.
That descent arrives violently in ‘Deep Fog, the Foresty Claws’, the EP’s most tactile and aggressive piece. The guitars claw forward with tapping riffs and jagged tremolo lines that evoke movement through dense undergrowth. The drums thunder with a warlike presence, grounding the track in physicality and weight. The Specter’s snarling delivery feels feral, closer to early Gorgoroth or Kvist, and the entire composition drags the listener back from cosmic elevation into soil, roots, and suffocating fog. It is the EP’s earthbound counterpoint, a reminder that the nocturnal current flows through both sky and forest.
‘Striding the Spiritual Hills’ then rises again, but in a different manner: not cosmic, not earthly, but ritualistic. Its bombastic mid‑paced opening feels like a procession, a climb through hills that are both physical and symbolic. The track alternates between cold riff marches and atmospheric plateaus, creating a sense of ascent through shifting terrain. The Specter adopts a more commanding cadence, less frantic and more ceremonial, as if guiding a rite rather than narrating a struggle. This is the EP’s longest and most narrative track, the moment where the nocturnal current becomes a path rather than a pull.
Finally, ‘I Rest Upon This Pyre’ extinguishes the journey. Minimalist and smoldering, it feels like embers cooling after a ritual has ended. The keyboards dominate, glowing faintly, while the guitars act as dying sparks. Vocals are sparse, distant, almost ghostlike. The track does not conclude with a climax but with dissolution, the current fades, the pyre cools, and the EP closes in silence rather than triumph. It is a funeral‑pyre epilogue, a final exhalation that lets the nocturnal current drift back into darkness.
Quite simply, this stands as one of WolfKult Religion’s strongest invocations to date, and, at least for me, one of the most commanding Dutch Black Metal offerings of recent years. It’s a cold, slicing Black Metal surge threaded with folkloric undercurrents, forged in the deep northern reaches of the Lowlands, where frost, myth, and raw intent converge. The band’s own description captures it perfectly, but the reality is even sharper: this EP feels like a nocturnal rite carved in ice.
If the old Satyricon spirit or the feral pulse of Arckanum or Carpathian Forest stirs your blackened instincts, then stepping onto this nocturnal current isn’t just recommended, it’s inevitable.
